The Girls Who Disappeared(30)

He drops my elbow. Even in the dark I can tell he’s angry. ‘You shouldn’t be here, Jenna.’

I’ve messed everything up. He’s not going to trust me now and he won’t help me with my podcast. I wince as pain shoots up my neck and into the back of my head.

‘Are you hurt?’ His voice softens.

‘My head,’ I say, reaching up and touching it. I can feel something sticky. It’s either mud … or blood. Dale must take pity on me because he snakes an arm around my waist and helps me back down the track to my car. It’s started to rain again, heavier this time. I feel utterly miserable and in pain. ‘Did you hear that child crying?’ I ask desperately. I can see the dark shadows of our cars parked up ahead.

‘I think you should get checked over. You might be concussed.’

‘There was a child …’

He leads me to his car. When I try to protest, he says, ‘Jenna, you’re in no state to drive back yourself. I’m going to take you to A and E.’

Everything spins as I sink into his passenger seat gratefully, conscious I must be getting mud on it. How long had I been lying there unconscious? It must have been a while if Dale had finished and was heading back to the car. I touch the back of my head gingerly, and when my hand comes away I see blood all over my fingers.

‘Shit,’ says Dale, his face full of concern. ‘You’re bleeding quite a lot, Jenna. Here, take this.’ He hands me an old cloth that he must use for wiping the windscreen and I press it to the back of my head. ‘You think someone did this to you?’

I nod, and wince as the movement causes lights to erupt in front of my eyes. ‘Yes. Someone was following me. I felt a hand on my shoulder and then I – I can’t remember. I …’ I feel close to tears and swallow a few times, trying to compose myself.

As Dale reverses out of the lay-by I squint, trying to spot anyone lurking among the trees. But there’s nothing other than dark shadows flickering between the branches.

‘It was reckless of you,’ admonishes Dale, as he pulls onto the Devil’s Corridor.

‘Is it Ralph? Who was found dead?’

‘Yes,’ he says quietly.

‘What happened?’

‘It’s unexplained at the moment. We’ll know more after the pathologist’s report.’

‘Do you think he was murdered?’

‘Jenna.’ A warning in his tone.

I press my lips together and we don’t speak for a while. Despite the pain in my head guilt weaves its way around my insides until I blurt out tearfully, ‘I’m so sorry. This is the last thing you need after a busy day.’

‘It’s fine, Jenna. Really. I just want to make sure you’re okay.’

We lapse into silence and I stare miserably out of the window, the rag still pressed to the back of my head. I feel slightly sick.

‘Jenna …’

I turn to him. I notice he has a smear of mud on his cheek. His face in the dim light is hollowed out in shadows but he looks tired. I feel another tug of guilt that he’s having to drive me to the hospital. ‘I’ll need to take a formal statement from you about your conversation with Ralph earlier today, the time you visited him and what he told you about Olivia.’

‘Okay,’ I say, nausea rising. I’m not sure if it’s because of the intense pain in my head or because it’s hit home that I was one of the last people to see Ralph Middleton alive.





19



Night Visitor


John-Paul had been distant after the barbecue and his chat with his old mate. Stace had asked him about it as soon as they were alone, but he’d brushed it off and told her he was too jet-lagged and drunk to talk: he just wanted to crash. Stace had fidgeted next to him, wishing she could fall asleep as easily. The light from the moon fell onto John-Paul’s sleeping form, illuminating his bronzed back, his strong shoulders, and she reached out and ran her finger down the length of his torso. He didn’t stir. What was he hiding from her? She’d thought she knew him so well, but their romance, which had burnt brightly for the first few months, had been slowly getting dimmer as soon as they’d moved in together last year. Something she hadn’t wanted to admit to herself because she hoped that things would return to how they had been at the beginning. He’d rarely spoken of his past or Derreck and she’d never thought to ask. They’d been so wrapped up in the here and now, their little cocoon, which she’d always felt was untouchable. But now … now she realized she was na?ve. How well did she really know John-Paul?

It was no use. She was worrying too much to sleep. She stepped carefully out of bed so as not to wake him and pulled on the sundress she’d been wearing earlier. She’d go to the kitchen and fetch herself a glass of water.

When she reached the bottom of the winding staircase, the marble tiles refreshingly cold beneath her feet, she saw a light coming from the patio beyond the kitchen. And there, in the amber glow of the garden lights, sat Derreck, his back to her. She could see he had a cigarette in his hand, the smoke curling away from him and disappearing into the warm night air. She hesitated. She didn’t fancy sitting alone with Derreck, a man she hardly knew. Something about him unsettled her. Unless … she thought back to his heated conversation with John-Paul. Could she dare ask him about it?